A year after their wedding, Frederick was walking through the estate. Miss Theodora Ashcombe and the captain would be there at any moment, and he had to finish his nightly inspections before greeting them. It had been much too long, and much had changed. 

The walls of Westhaven Court now reverberated the sound of laughter and joy. His mother had done well, settling into life with Charlotte at her side. Charlotte had taken to looking into what helped women like his mother, often returning home with her arms laden with lavender, clary sage, and vetiver. His mother had not understood at first, but now she could not deny how calm her days were. 

That was not the only way Charlotte had shown her dedication and know-how. Some of the systems she had tried to implement during their confinement were now fully up and running in the house. In the stables, each horse was in its own insulated stall, with feed now being brought in from what was grown around the estate and the village as opposed to being imported. Each horse also had their own trough at the back of their stable to rule out water cross contamination.

Then there were the store houses. Charlotte had insisted that these be set up so that nobody would be concerned about food should snow come again. Pulling open the first door, he carefully looked over the bushels of wheat, the bags of root vegetables, the smell of smoke wafting from the meat storehouse. Opening the final door, it was the one that always made him smile. This one had lines of rosewood tea caddies full of Hyson tea, and bottles of Barsac. Both things that Frederick had developed a taste for since they got married. Each item was kept on a shelf that had been padded with wool and horsehair. Even the floor had been lined with thick carpeting so that if anything was dropped, it was likely to survive. He took a deep breath, letting the smells fill his lungs. Since marrying Charlotte and listening to her explain her fascination with smells, he had understood more of why she relied on them so much.

“You are just smelling your store rooms?” the captain said, appearing behind Frederick. He laughed and turned to face his friend.

“You would too if you could smell these each day,” Frederick chuckled.

“I will never understand what that wife of yours has done to you,” the captain joked. “Although I cannot say much when Miss Theodora has me reading poetry.”

“And you are no longer afraid of admitting that?” Frederick asked.

“Not any more,” the captain said with a smile. “Now, are you done smelling the room so I can tell you the good news?”

“I am done,” Frederick laughed. “Tell me what it is you have to tell me.”

“Well,” the captain grinned. “It took a year of courting, which was really a year of wearing down her stubborn father, but I am now formally engaged to one Miss Theodora Ashcombe.”

Frederick beamed and clapped his friend on the shoulder.

“That is excellent news!” Frederick said. “When is the wedding going to take place?”

“This summer,” the captain said, beaming. “I will be needing your assistance as my best man to make it happen as my dear fiance wishes it to.”

“I would be a fool to say no to you,” Frederick chuckled. “You are a large reason why I am married to my wife now, after all.”

“Indeed,” Captain Langley said, nodding sagely. “And I will never allow you to forget it.”

“I am not surprised,” Frederick laughed. “Now, where is your dear fiance?”

“I believe she is going to find your wife,” the captain said. “She said something about riding to the village.”

“Of course they are off straight away,” Frederick said with a dramatic sigh.

“Your wife is nothing if not fearless,” the captain chuckled as the two men moved toward the stables again.

“And we would be nowhere if not for the much overlooked strength in our chosen brides,” Frederick said warmly.

“And may we never be the fools who ignore it,” the captain said with a chuckle.

The pair rode quickly toward the village. At first they were surrounded by the forest, the sounds of the birds, and the smell of mud under their horses hooves. When they reached the edge of the village, Frederick immediately saw Charlotte stood amongst the villagers. She was gesticulating quickly, her mother’s pin in her hair, as it always was. He smiled as he saw the sun glinting off of it. 

She had grown into her influence, and people knew when they saw that  pin, they were seeing their duchess. They rode toward her. As soon as Charlotte recognized her husband she beamed, running toward him. Frederick slid off his horse just in time to catch her, wrapping her in a tight embrace. He smiled, feeling her warmth against him. He was glad that he no longer saw love as a risk he had to evaluate before leaping into it. Now, it was how he lived and breathed every day.

They soon went back to Westhaven Court, with Captain Langley and Miss Theodora Ashcombe talking animatedly as they rode behind their duke and duchess. When they came home, Mr. Julian Ashcombe had arrived, an easel tucked under his arm. It was that time of year again. While Mr. Ashcombe set up his easel, Charlotte retreated off to her study. Frederick followed after her. He sat across the room as she took out her writing utensils.

“Ah! I forgot to say!” Mr. Ashcombe called out from the room he was occupying. “A certain Miss Wren has written to me!”

“Again?” Charlotte called back.

There was a moment of silence, and Frederick had to cover his mouth to stop himself from laughing.

“Well, perhaps it is a second or third—” Mr. Ashcombe started.

“Fourth,” Charlotte called over her shoulder.

There was another, longer silence.

“She says that she has started calligraphy lessons!” Mr. Ashcombe called out, trying to push past the point his sister had made. “I believe she would enjoy sharing her new skill with Theodora!”

“Only if she can behave,” the captain said as he and Miss Theodora Ashcombe appeared, ready for their portrait.

“I believe she can,” Mr. Ashcombe said almost shyly. 

“I will believe that when I see it,” Charlotte sighed. “Which at this point may be when my brother starts courting Miss Wren.”

“I heard that!” Mr. Ashcombe shouted, causing Frederick to lose his grip on his composure and start laughing. He stood up and wrapped his arms around Charlotte, kissing her on the cheek.

“You must not be so cruel to him,” he chided his wife gently, his hand moving so it rested on her stomach.

“If I am not cruel to him, then he will have much too much good fortune in this life,” Charlotte laughed.

“I suppose so,” Frederick laughed. His eyes drifted down toward where she was writing.

My dearest mother,

There is much you have missed while you have been in heaven. I have been married to the duke for a year now. I believe he would have liked you very much. We were both much too stubborn when we met each other. I should have known that was the case when we met hiding in the same unused room. We mistook fear for certainty. I am very glad to say we have learned much since then. We now are not afraid to love each other without reservation, to care for each other without pride’s interference, and without the whispers of society dictating how we are to act together.

I have been trying to carry forward the love and courage that my father says you had when you were alive. I do hope that my own child will be able to carry it on too. They should be here before the new year. Please, let your spirit keep living in me, and in my child.

I love you,

Charlotte

Charlotte’s hand met his on her belly. His heart warmed and he rested his cheek against hers as they sat there in the quiet. He could not believe that he had gotten so lucky as to marry a wife who was so full of contemplation, and who shone with the radiance of someone unburdened and free.

Charlotte slowly picked up the letter, folding it carefully.

She did not seal the envelope as she slid it inside.

“Could you deliver this to my father?” she asked him softly.

“His chambers are but down the hallway, the same place they have been since he came to live with us three months ago,” Frederick chuckled.

“I do not mean now,” she said, shaking her head. “I mean on the day our child is born.”

Frederick nearly melted into her and nodded.

“Of course,” he said lovingly.

“Thank you,” she said, standing up. “I think I want to go for a walk now. Before Julian pulls us into more discussions of his one letter from Miss Wren and I am forced to correct him.”

Frederick snorted and nodded as he took her hand.

“Come, let us escape that fate,” he said with a grin.

The gardens were still warm, despite the gentle breeze blowing over head. The sun was shining down on them both, catching the gold of the marigolds, the red of the poppies, and the purple of the lavender. It was the kind of warmth that had always been there, they just could not find it until the snow left. He looked down at her as they walked. 

To him, she was the thing most worth paying attention to. He pulled her close, kissing her forehead.

“I love you,” he said softly. He felt her skin warming as she flushed under his attention.

“I love you too,” she said.

The world fell away, and he focused only on the feeling of her against him. It was everything he had ever wanted, but had been afraid to reach for. Now, he did not have to strain and reach. She would run to him. And he hoped, one day soon, their child would too. They would teach their child all the ways that love could be found. 

It would be everything they had thought they were not allowed.

THE END